


On a Night Like This

by VickySueleen11



Category: Narcos (TV), Narcos: Mexico (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Reader-Insert, Romance, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29093562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VickySueleen11/pseuds/VickySueleen11
Summary: The circumstances Miguel finds himself in when after reluctantly accepting the invitation to Don Juan's celebration bring him unexpected revelations.Some of them have to do with the intriguing stranger who captivates his attention, and the feelings that make him contemplate many things in his life.Inspired by S02E02.
Relationships: Miguel Ángel Félix Gallardo/Original Character(s), Miguel Ángel Félix Gallardo/Reader, Miguel Ángel Félix Gallardo/You
Kudos: 2





	1. On a Night Like This

**Author's Note:**

> A slightly AU, romanticized version, where Don Juan does not betray Miguel, Miguel is not married and needs some loving in his life!  
> In an ideal world, all dialogues would be written in Spanish, but as I don't speak the language - please imagine they are!  
> Also, English is not my mother tongue, so I'd be happy to hear about any mistakes/tips :) Not beta-ed.  
> Inspired by my teenage-like obsession with Diego Luna and the below mentioned scene that almost broke my heart! - I wonder if anyone felt the same? :)

Miguel Ángel had no idea how long he'd been sitting by the bonfire. His face felt like it was burning, but he couldn't stop staring into the reddish flames, even though they hadn't revealed any answers yet.

The way to the top is paved with hardships, Miguel knew that all too well. And while at times he could acutely feel how anything resembling normalcy was slipping through his fingers, nothing had ever made him more painfully aware of his loneliness than visiting Don Juan.

Miguel wondered if he’d been subconsciously keeping his eyes closed to all that he’d seen so clearly in front of him today. Were any of his associates’ lives like this? Long fiestas on warm summer evenings with friends and fireflies? Genuine respect of their neighbors, the kind of love of their families that brings inner peace, and frank adoration of flocks of grandchildren?

Miguel thinks not.

He was too smart not to recognize that his infinite ambition was nothing but a reflection of feeling like he never had enough… feeling like he never was enough. But today was like someone lifted a curtain from his eyes. He saw all he never knew he wanted.

He saw the embodiment of what could be enough.

Miguel was too deep in his thoughts to take notice of the flock of children, their previously pristine white blouses and shirts long adorned by smudges, sitting at the bonfire a few meters away from his own.

Although they were chattering happily, as children of that age are bound to do, he was fully focused on the bizarre trains of thoughts and feelings rushing through his insides to pay them any attention, blind to all except the dancing flames.

That is, until a single word penetrated through the air and into his consciousness.

“ _Señor_?”

Miguel startled when suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere like a fairy tale elf, stood a young boy. Looking over his shoulder, only now did Miguel notice the party not far away from him, consisting of the schoolchildren who he had seen singing to a touched Don Juan.

This boy, although wearing the same uniform as the rest of the choir, seemed smaller than any of them, and was looking up at Miguel sheepishly with big brown eyes fanned by long dark lashes.

Upon the first look at him, Miguel automatically squished any annoyance he had felt at being interrupted from his musings. Before he could fathom a reason for his presence, the boy stretched out his arm, offering Miguel…

“ _Qué es_?“ Miguel asked, skeptically taking the wooden stick with… candies on it?

“Eat!” the boy replied merrily, and by the excitement in his voice Miguel could tell it must have been something warranting attention.

When that got him no reaction from the adult, the boy prompted impatiently again: “Eat!”, mimicking the request with his hands, and with that he bounced off to re-join his comrades, who welcomed him, for some reason, by erupting in loud giggles.

Miguel, albeit hesitatingly, brought the alleged delicacy to his mouth. Immediately, the sugary aroma hitting his nose made his mouth water, prompting him to take a small bite. Nothing, however, could prepare him for the plethora of roasted flavors exploding on his taste buds.

Miguel had never been passionate about candy, but this sensual experience made him feel a pleasure so simple and genuine like he hadn't felt in a long time.

He looked over to his neighbors, intending to shout out a well-deserved _gracias_ to the boy, but was unable to identify him in the semi darkness. The children didn’t stop their loud chatter and none of them paid him any attention.

But, even in the semi-darkness, he did catch someone's gaze.

Across the distance, his eyes met another adult pair looking directly at him. Sparkling, and full of mischievous laughter.

Miguel, surprised by their directness, slowly nodded his head in a gesture of thanks.

In return, he got a nod from the woman with mischievous eyes.

As a side effect of his occupation, Miguel had developed quite an accurate sixth sense for knowing when he was being observed. And while he could feel a pair of eyes on him, he allowed himself a moment of complacency induced by the warm summer atmosphere, and before long, he was deep in his musings again.

That is, until he heard the gravely ground scrunching rhythmically beneath a pair of light feet, and the steps stopping right next to him.

Miguel's head turned, half expecting Don Juan’s nephew to be the one joining him. He couldn't be further away from the truth.

“Is this seat taken?”

His eyes traveled from the brown leather boots, long jean-clad legs and a simple tucked-in white blouse… only to meet the playful eyes from earlier.

Now that he could finally see their owner more clearly, his breath caught at the _Y/E/C_ looking back at him. The face of their owner, surely at least ten years his junior, was framed by wavy _Y/H/C_ locks and graced by a lop-sided, almost shy smile.

Miguel couldn't help but look deep in the eyes again, and notice the adorable smile-induced wrinkles around them, which were slowly smoothing out, as the orbs became filled with… insecurity?

“I'm sorry for interrupting, I didn't mean to…” the stranger spoke out when the silence became too long.

“No!” Miguel jumped up on his feet, realizing he'd taken too long to answer, too busy scrutinizing his visitor. All of a sudden, he felt a blush creeping up high on his cheeks.

“I mean… please,” he half-gestured towards the wooden chair next to him.

“Thank you,” the breath she let out sounded relieved, and she took the offered spot.

Miguel followed her and sat down slowly. Frantically, he started searching his head for something suitable to say… but somehow, all his usual suaveness seemed to be escaping him.

His unexpected visitor freed him from his struggle.

“A lovely night, isn't it?” she said, raising her eyes upwards.

Miguel followed her eyes and looked up. He couldn't believe he hadn't seen it before.

An ink-dark sky interspersed with stars so bright that it seemed like it was peppered with glitter.

“Yeah,” he replied in quiet wonder, trying to think of the last time he’d seen a sky this magical. Or when he took the time to look up.

Even though Miguel didn’t realize it, the ever-present frown line on his forehead disappeared for a brief moment.

But it was what she said next that knocked the breath out of him.

“No one should sit alone on a night like this.”

Miguel let out a soundless gasp and turned to look at her. Whatever he expected her to say, that wasn't it.

There was an unexpected gentleness underlying the simple utterance.

But then, something flashed through his mind, and suddenly, he was on his guard.

He looked at her, searching for clues. Side intentions, suspicions, questions, anything… He knew could read people perfectly but this time, he didn't see anything apart from the soft smile she was offering. Reading her felt like looking at a blank page.

Eventually, he looked back down to his hands.

“That is… very thoughtful of you to say,” he offered with reserved politeness.

“Well… you seemed so pensive that I wouldn't dare come up here myself,” she said as if by a way of explanation, “so I sent out a pioneer,” she smirked.

Miguel couldn't help but let out a small chuckle.

“ _Gracias_ for that… for the delicious offerings,“ Miguel said.

Finally, he seemed to be back in the conversational game.

“So what made you come up to me now?“ he asked charmingly, but prepared himself to deduct anything and everything from the words that come next.

His subconsciousness was working at full speed.

Was she a spy? An informant? Ally or foe? Whose bidding did she come at?

Miguel looked at her again.

“Well,” she started in a serious voice… and again, surprised him. “I figured we might have made you crave more.”

And from somewhere next to her she picked up a bag of the same kind of fluffy candy he’d been savoring earlier.

“…and possibly some company,” she added, giving him that lop-sided, unassuming smile again that Miguel was already starting to get used to.

Miguel's mouth opened in surprise and he stared at the package uncomprehendingly.

Then, he let out a laugh from deep inside his belly which seemed to him to last forever.

“Where did you learn to make this again?”

Miguel asked, finishing the last piece of the gooey delicacy, after roasting it under the watchful instructions of his companion.

“Oh, we make it back home at barbecues all the time,” she replied with a wave of her hand.

“ _Y/C/O_ ,” she added as Miguel flashed her an uncomprehending look, “Ever been?“

“No, I've never left the country,“ Miguel replied, almost ashamed.

He spent the past years thinking he had it all, yet just those few minutes with the stranger made him painfully aware of how much had missed out on during his endless climb upwards.

“I couldn't tell by your Spanish… but I do know I've never seen eyes like yours in Mexico,” Miguel turned back to her with an almost-smile, not even realizing how direct he was being.

The stranger was more and more intriguing to him with every minute.

Whether she recognized it for the compliment it was or not, Miguel couldn’t tell by the soft laugh he got in response.

“What brought you to Mexico then?” he gently investigated further, his suspiciousness not quite quenched yet.

“Oh, the usual story,“ she replied, almost grudgingly, „I came as a volunteer, with a backpack and no return ticket. Met a guy, fell in love, got a place to live and…” she looked down at her hands and only now did Miguel notice the tiny, heart-shaped tattoo on her ring finger which she was rubbing at, seemingly subconsciously.

“Anyway, you know how it goes…”

No, Miguel didn't know, but he could guess by the melancholy in her voice she could not hide. What he did know was that his blood boiled instantly at the idea of her being mistreated by some faceless _cabron_ in any way.

“I moved to the city, got a new place, found a job… I started teaching English in a school and now I'm the director so I can't complain…” she looked up at him, ending on a positive note, but this time, he could see her smile was laced with sadness.

“I met Maria when I first arrived and started working at the local school here,” she moved her head in the direction of the other bonfire, where Miguel could now clearly see the only other adult. “She's Don Juan’s niece and ever since she brought me home with her for a visit, he's been treating me like one too.”

Miguel looked at her again, for once at a loss as to what to say. There was so much more to her that met the eye.

“That is a very… admirable journey,” he said softly, still trying to wrap his head around her story.

Eventually deciding it does warrant a toast, he raised his half-full glass of whiskey.

Now it was her turn to laugh.

“My family would disagree with you,” raising her bottle of beer and clinking it against Miguel’s glass.

Miguel smiled and couldn't seem to stop looking at her even as he was swallowing the bitter liquid.

“How about you?” she asked, nodding her chin to his still perfectly ironed blue shirt and dress pants, “looks like you haven't really come to celebrate.”

Miguel had long abandoned his jacket, now lying discarded on a chair right next to him, but ready for when time to negotiate came.

He looked down at himself and chuckled.

“Indeed, I haven't,” he admitted, choosing his words carefully, “I came to Don Juan to talk business… and ended up here,“ he looked around to indicate the unexpected circumstances he’d found himself in, and then met her eyes again.

Searching for clues. Wondering if she might have any idea what his business was.

But again, her eyes hadn't lost an ounce of their openness.

She opened her mouth to say something, only to be interrupted by a resounding collective moan coming from the other bonfire.

“Damn,” she swore softly under her breath, turning around to the kids, “I better help Maria put the little ones to sleep. I haven't realized it's time for them to go to bed,” she smiled at Miguel apologetically from under her eyelashes.

Miguel wasn't even aware of how by now, he'd automatically repaid each of her soft smiles with his own, each one more genuine and open then the one before.

Nor that she noticed and loved this development.

“I should go,” she stood up, and Miguel mirrored her.

Standing across from each other, they looked into each other’s eyes. Miguel was frantically searching for words adequate enough to replace the hours of conversation that he knew could have easily followed.

“Thank you for… you know…” she turned out to be the first one to come up with some, “not sending me away when I crashed your party.”

Miguel laughed.

“Some party it was…”

He realized it's been a while since he felt this much at ease with anyone.

“Goodnight… and good luck with your business with uncle,” she offered one last smile and turned to go.

“Wait,” gently but insistently, Miguel grabbed her arm to stop her from going.

His voice sounded almost panicked to his own ears.

“I don't even know your name.”

At that, she offered him a confident smile, along with her stretched-out hand:

“ _Y/N_.”

Miguel took her hand, slightly cold from the evening chill.

“ _Y/N_ ,” he repeated, tasting the name on his tongue.

“Miguel Ángel,” he introduced himself and unexpectedly, a jolt of apprehension ran through his body.

Miguel never particularly cared for what people thought of him when they met him, more often than not automatically expecting everyone to be either impressed or intimidated at the first mention his name.

This time, for some reason, all he felt was nervousness.

He half expected the stranger to pull away if she put the pieces together.

But it seemed like she didn't.

All he got was another of those guileless smiles Miguel couldn't seem to get enough of.

“Thank you for a lovely evening, Miguel Ángel,” she thanked softly, and Miguel almost thought he heard something akin to regret in her voice at their goodbye.

He focused on cataloging every detail, every sensation he felt holding her small hand in his.

Was this it?

Miguel felt like panicking again.

So much so that he didn't notice the heavier steps and male voices coming their way, until he heard Don Juan was introducing him to company in his booming voice.

“ _Señores_ , our guest of honor, Félix Gallardo!”

With the words finally penetrating his consciousness, Miguel felt his spine come alive the same jolt of apprehension, but multiplied. He didn't drop his gaze from the _Y/E/C_ eyes though.

 _Now_ he could see more than a spark of recognition in them.

He could see the subtle change as she looked into his eyes again, this time deeper than ever before.

Miguel felt like an eternity passed, although the scrutiny couldn’t have lasted longer than a few seconds.

He didn’t know what she was searching for or if she found it.

But eventually, out of the dozen possible reactions Miguel had come up with during those few seconds, the unexpected happened yet again.

Her eyes cleared up with their usual brightness, and she offered Miguel one last smile.

“Goodnight, Miguel Ángel,” she repeated quietly, his name like a precious souvenir on her lips, turning to disappear into the darkness as mysteriously as she had appeared.


	2. On a morning like this

Miguel felt a moment of panic when he woke up in an unfamiliar bed.

Looking up at the ceiling, he let the images of last night flash through his mind. Strangely enough, he only felt mild excitement thinking back to the deal he'd made with Don Juan.

What occupied his mind more was the reoccurring image of his brief exchange with the beguiling stranger, just like it had last night as he was falling asleep.

He got up and reluctantly put on the clothes from yesterday, having no other choice as he hadn't really counted on spending the night at his new associate’s house.

Miguel was an early riser, and it was still too early for breakfast. He looked around his room and to his dissatisfaction, found there was no balcony.

Wherever he was, balcony was always Miguel’s first destination in the morning. He liked being able to observe his surroundings from high above - looking over his estate, over the city, over the horizon - and feeling in control of whatever might be coming his way.

Although the windows in his room were big, they didn't do the trick and Miguel felt stifled.

Figuring out everyone was still sound asleep, he decided to walk around Don Juan’s estate. He walked out of the house, aimlessly heading somewhere around the corner, only to find out that wasn't entirely true.

Behind the house Miguel discovered the stables, their front wall lined with a rectangular riding arena.

And there she was.

Miguel stopped in his tracks as he saw the foreigner who occupied his thoughts since they met riding a huge brown stallion in the enclosure.

She was wearing an ordinary blue plaid shirt tucked in her high-waist jeans. Coupled with brown leather riding boots adorned with intricate blue embroidery, Miguel knew it was nothing but a very simple outfit. He normally didn’t spare a second look at women wearing less or wearing a more sophisticated attire.

Yet somehow, it took his breath away.

He watched the girl from the distance, mesmerized by the way she was completely in tune with the magnificent animal, moving at what seemed to be a leisurely gallop at best, but must have really been breathtaking speed from the horseback.

His eyes landed on her hips, moving smoothly to and fro in the saddle, accentuated by the brown leather belt with a large buckle… and had to physically shake his head to stop his thoughts from straying.

Suddenly, he became aware of the sound of hooves getting slower and softer, until the animal came to a halt.

For some reason, Miguel felt an unexpected urge to leave, like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

What if she thought he was stalking her?

What if she never wanted to see him again after she found out who he was?

Yet, his feet did not move an inch.

He only decided to leave after she had led the horse out of the pen, got off with a practiced jump and fastened the reins to the wooden fence.

“He doesn’t bite, you know?”

Miguel had already taken one step back when she spoke up.

From the looks of it, she might as well have been talking to the beast, whose huge muzzle she was petting, accompanied by soft cooing sounds. Until she turned her head and looked directly into

Miguel’s eyes.

The unassuming, easy smile Miguel remembered so well from last night was even more captivating in daylight.

Somehow, Miguel forced himself to overcome his embarrassment at being caught staring, and took the few steps to join her by the arena.

“Good morning, Y/N,” he greeted softly, still unsure of whether his company was welcome or not.

“Good morning, Miguel,” she responded softly, her hand never stopping the gentle attentions to the horse, who only looked at the newcomer sideways with what Miguel translated as mild suspicion.

“Couldn't sleep?” she asked conversationally.

“No, sleep usually eludes me…” Miguel confided before he realized how open he was being, “I thought I'd look around a bit. Get some fresh air.”

“Well, it's still too early for breakfast but if it's fresh air you're after, why don't you join us for a walk?” she asked. “Tornado here needs to cool off after his morning run.”

“For a walk?” Miguel replied uncomprehendingly, nodding towards the horse.

“How?” He'd seen his share of horses in Sinaloa, although he’d rarely ridden one. But surely enough, no two people could fit in one saddle.

“Oh, that's no problem,” she replied merrily and started unbuckling the saddle from the massive furry belly. “Ever ridden bareback?” she questioned.

“No, uh… I don't have much experience with horses,” Miguel admitted, and the fact that he felt like an inexperienced schoolboy in her presence yet again did not escape him.

“No worries, you'll get used to it quickly,” she assured him, hoisting the heavy saddle on the fence with a grunt, and came back to stand in front of Miguel again, smiling up at him.

“I…” Miguel stuttered, “I really shouldn't.”

He thought of his bodyguards waiting for him back in town, most likely already on pins and needles.

Although he didn't say any more, she seemed to read his mind.

“You're safe while you're a guest here,” she reassured him softly and, seeing the doubts in his eyes, added in a more serious voice: “I would never let anything happen to you.”

It took Miguel one look into her sparkling eyes to forget all the reasons why he shouldn't.

“Very well, you've convinced me,” he declared with a nervous chuckle. “Let's do this!“

Immediately, he saw his own excitement mirrored in the _Y/E/C_ eyes. “Let’s!” she exclaimed and moved sideways to jump up on the horse.

“Wait,” she suddenly turned back around and looked Miguel up and down. “Lose the shirt!”

“Excuse me?” Miguel didn’t think he’d ever heard his own voice so high. Surely, he must have misheard her.

“Lose the shirt,” she repeated resolutely.

“Oh,” she added almost instantly in a deeper voice, as she realized just what her instructions sounded like. The realization was immediately reflected in form of a bright blush on her cheeks.

“I mean,” she looked down sheepishly, “your dress shirt would likely stand out in the countryside too much and… you probably don't want to smell like a horse at the breakfast table,” she tried to explain hurriedly, a few little laughs that she couldn’t help interlacing her words.

“I thought you may want to ehm… just come in your undershirt?”

“I uh… I can't do that, can I?” Miguel reacted with an embarrassed laugh.

In spite of the ruthlessness of his profession, he was still a very private man.

When none of her words managed to ease Miguel’s discomfort, she came up with an idea.

“OK,” she said, “come with me!” and rushed off to the stables behind them.

Before Miguel knew it, he was standing in front of an old wooden closet it in what seemed to be a supply room in the stables and a beige plaid shirt was being held in front of his face.

“Here,” she was handing in to him. “That'll do.”

“Thank you,” Miguel replied, still mildly nervous, slowly taking the surprisingly crisp looking shirt.

“I guess I will… give you a moment?” she offered with an endearingly shy smile and left.

Miguel couldn't stop a smile of his own from creeping up on his lips as he started to unbutton his dress shirt, now that he had the privacy.

“There you go,” she welcomed him with an approving gaze as he walked out of the door, and Miguel involuntarily stopped in his tracks when he saw that she had changed her attire as well.  
Instead of the shirt, she only wore a white tank top now, and a knitted quilt was covering her shoulders, presumably to protect her from the remainder of the morning chill.

With a pale cowboy hat on her head, Miguel thought she looked incredible, and he noticed another one in her hand.

As he came up to her, she put it on him without any qualms.

“Ready for your incognito walk?” she teased with a wink, and Miguel suspected another blush was making appearance on his cheeks as he smiled and adjusted his hat.

He felt excitement equal to a little boy dressing up for a game of cowboys and Indians.

With a little help and more effort than he'd like to admit, he suddenly found himself on horseback.

Any thoughts on where and when his last horse ride had been immediately dissipated when he became fully aware of his position behind the stranger.

From his spot, he was looking directly at the nape of her neck, bare after she had brushed her hair sideways and towards her front. The first breath he took made him captive of a sweet strawberry fragrance combined with a hint of humid clear skin in the fresh morning air.

Somehow, it all felt incredibly intimate.

As if by their own volition, his eyes followed the line of her spine all the way down to her hips, separated from his own by mere centimetres, which his hands were aching to touch but hadn't dared yet.

Until she turned her head and looked at him, close enough for Miguel to count the few freckles beneath her smiling eyes.

“Hold on tight, _señor_!”

Miguel took it as his cue to finally put his hands on her hips, gently, feeling as though he was crossing a sacred line he was not supposed to cross just yet.

The moment of intimacy he was experiencing so intensely was mercilessly shattered when she clicked her tongue to get horse to start walking. Miguel found himself flush against her back at the suddenness of the movement, the gap between them long gone and his hands now gripping her hips tightly.

Just as he was about to laugh it off, trying hopelessly to put some marginally respectful distance between their bodies, he felt a smaller hand cover the back of one of his on her hip, giving it a tight squeeze.

“There. Now I won't lose you.”

He couldn't decide if it was the words or the touch that made his heart skip a beat.

Miguel realized he hadn't felt so refreshed in ages as he trotted down the stairs to join Don Juan, who was already seated downstairs with his family and gave him a warm welcome.

As he took a seat on his host’s right at the breakfast table, he was pleased to note that his shirt didn't smell like a horse. The stranger’s forethought and a quick shower had made sure of that.

Contrary to his usual morning habit, Miguel found he’d worked up quite an appetite, and to Don Juan’s satisfaction, loaded his plate with a pile of freshly baked bread and delicious cold cuts.

He listened to his host and his children give their account of last night's party, involving him politely in the conversation.

His mood only dampened slightly when his host’s wife asked him about his background.

“Truth be told, I don't have much in the way of family,” he responded to her gentle query.

The brief silence that followed was broken by Don Juan.

“Félix, my boy,” he put a heavy hand on Miguel’s shoulder, “I meant what I said last night. My family is your family now.”

Miguel opened his mouth but didn’t find any words to say to the old man who held his gaze, full of a warm sentiment that Miguel rarely found himself on the receiving end of.

The conversation restarted smoothly after that, but Miguel was back in his thoughts.

_“So what made you come up to me really?”_

_Miguel asked after they’d sat down in the shadow of a massive old oak on a slope, with a breathtaking view of the town below and the sun still low above the horizon._

_“What? You mean seeing a handsome stranger, sitting all by himself at a party is not good enough a reason?” she gave him a sideways look and a lop-sided smile._

_For a reason he couldn’t fathom, the simple compliment made Miguel Angel Felix Gallardo,_ narco baron extraordinaire _, laugh and duck his head._

_“Honestly?” she continued in a more serious voice, “I saw you earlier last night. When the children were singing… and the look on your face made me feel like there was something terribly wrong. As ridiculous as it might sound… I just wanted to make you feel better.”_

_“Oh.” There goes the handsome stranger line. Miguel gave out a small chuckle._

_“Is that why you came to Mexico? To make people feel better?”_

_“No,” she scoffed, “that one is completely selfish. It’s true, I do see lots of sad things happening here, and when I do, I want to fix them to make my heart feel a bit less broken… And if I can help someone along the way, it's a win-win,” she winked and their eyes met again._

_Uncomprehending in the face of as much compassion as he found in this mysterious stranger, Miguel felt drawn to her as if by a magnetic force. All his senses were on high alert._

_Looking in her face, its beauty multiplied by the early morning rays, his attention was captured by a loose lock of the Y/H/C hair swaying in the breeze, and he felt like his hand would burn if he didn’t touch it_ now _._

_Miguel lifted his hand._

_But Tornado chose the exact same moment to give an impatient neigh, and he immediately dropped it._

_You should have kissed her_ , his inner voice was just berating him, when suddenly there was a noise equal to an earthquake arriving.

A crowd of children was running down the stairs, accompanied by two adults who were helplessly trying to make the exodus a bit more organized.

One of them being…

“ _Y/N_ , my girl,” Don Juan’s voice boomed across the room.

The object of Miguel’s imagination had just manifested herself on the other side of the table, bending down to put her arms around smiling Don Juan and receiving the warmest hug that made her laugh with joy.

Miguel found he could not stop staring.

She was dressed in a simple sleeveless black dress, her neckline adorned by simple golden jewelry, and her steps were accompanied by a clicking sound of heels. She must have taken a shower too, because, although she stood too far away, Miguel thought he could smell a freshly reinforced scent of strawberries.

“Come and sit with us, the girls will help Maria take care of them,” their host insisted, showing her to the free spot on his left right next to his wife, across the table from Miguel.

Don Juan wasted no time.

“ _Mija_ , I'd like you to meet Félix Gallardo.”

Miguel could see that only now did she notice his presence, and he wondered whether his awed expression could be interpreted by an outsider as a polite smile. He immediately raised from his chair.

“Señor Gallardo,” she acknowledged with a smile, holding out her hand, “yes, I did have the pleasure last night,” she smiled, looking directly into Miguel’s eyes as if it was their inside joke.

Their morning walk was to remain their secret then.

_“Uncle would kill me if he knew I kidnapped you like this.”_

_“Is that what it is? You, kidnapping me?” Miguel asked with a small chuckle, yet a tiny part of his brain screamed at him._

_He was in the middle of the northern countryside, just a few kilometres from the border no less, with his bodyguards far, far away and at the mercy of someone he hadn't even known twelve hours ago._

_If this was a deceptively straightforward plot by one of his enemies, he'd fallen for it hard and fast._

_She responded with a soft laugh, as if reading his thoughts._

_“It must be easy to think so. I imagine you never know what people may want from you when you meet them.”_

_“That's true. Not many people come up just because they want to make me feel better,” he chuckled, and looked down at his hands._

_If she detected the wistfulness in his words, she didn't show it._

_“Oh really? I'd imagine there's crowds at your beck and call twenty-four seven, catering to your every wish,” she replied, her voice half-teasing, half-serious._

_“Well, I suppose so… but none of it is for free,” Miguel said. “They all want something from me. No one really ever wonders why I look sad when I do.”_

_“So why did you come with me this morning? What made you think I didn’t want something from you as well?” she turned to him with something akin to a challenge in her eyes._

_At that, Miguel immediately bristled, and his spine straightened in alertness._

_He tried to swallow his disappointment as he turned his head to look her in the eyes and asked:_

_“And what is it you want from me?”_

_Half-bracing himself for yet another negotiation, he was surprised to see to see the usual playfulness reappear in her eyes._

_“Oh, I got all I wanted,” she replied lightly, and continued only after she noticed the confusion on Miguel’s face, “just wanted a little bit of your time.”_

They were both still young when disease took Miguel’s wife away.

Ever since then, he hadn't spared much thought to getting into a relationship, or to his nonexistent love life, for that matter. He focused all his energy on business instead.

Sure, he was well aware of the female attention he was getting, and patiently brushed off every suggestion of the older and the wiser that perhaps it was time he started a family, and strengthened his position in the federation, or the subtle comments of his business partners hinting to their beautiful young daughters, who they would undoubtedly love to see married off to money.

But Miguel never wanted to give anyone that kind of power over himself and made sure to keep all his encounters with women purely physical and meaningless.

That is why it came as a surprise to Miguel when a slight tightness settled over his chest when Don Juan offered to drive him back to town where his security team was still waiting for him.

_Miguel recovered from his surprise fairly quickly but couldn't stop himself from throwing what he hoped were subtle glances at the girl sitting across from him._

_“So did you give Tornado a proper run for his money,_ Y/N _?” Don Juan asked and turned to Miguel to explain. “She loves animals, and they all love her, but I swear this beast is happier when she’s here,” he chuckled good-naturedly._

_Miguel returned his chuckle, not knowing what to say. He could only feel understanding for poor Tornado._

_"Oh yes, we had a good time together this morning,” she replied. Miguel’s eyes met hers, only to have her look down back down at her plate with a hint of a smile. “I hope we can do that again sometime.”_

_Although Miguel felt like it was there for all to see, loud and clear, no one seemed to notice their exchange, not even Don Juan._

_“Sweetheart, you're welcome back anytime, you know that,” the host responded with a fatherly sentiment in his voice._

_Clearly, there was so much love between the two of them, and Miguel internally scolded himself for not having tried to find out more._

_He had always considered it his mission to learn as much as possible about his new partners, but he was doing a sorry job of it this time around._

_“Well, you folks keep eating. Félix and I have things to discuss,” Don Juan declared when both men’s plates were empty, and stood up from the table._

_Miguel mirrored him, uttering a few words of thanks to his host’s wife and nodding to the rest of the family at the table._

_“Oh Félix, we would be happy to have you again,” she replied with such honest sincerity that it came as a surprise to Miguel, as did the gentle hug he got._

_Over her shoulder, he caught a glimpse of his favorite shade of_ Y/E/C _, in the eyes of their owner standing in front of him._

_When he was let go of, he stood before her once again._

_There were words bubbling inside his chest, words he didn’t even know what they would sound like if they got out. Yet, aware of his audience, he could come up with nothing._

_Nothing but softly taking her hand, raising it to his mouth and pressing a soft kiss on the back of it._

_If anyone asked him about the moment later, he would swear he could feel a physical spark at the touch, and seeing a responding flash in her eyes, he thought she could feel it too._

_“_ Señorita _, it was a pleasure.”_

_If she was disappointed by his lack of expression, she didn't show it._

_The smile he got was slightly melancholic on the edges, but her eyes were still smiling with the same brightness, pure and unassuming._

_“Goodbye, Miguel Ángel.“_


End file.
